


Runs in the Family

by Cherry101



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, F/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), This was written in 30 minutes, hey look, sorry - Freeform, they aren't assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 03:38:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10913547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry101/pseuds/Cherry101
Summary: When Arina was a little girl, her father would take her to the ice rink, holding a pair of new white skates.“Here you go, Arisha,” He would tell her, his face stern, yet caring, as he held her hands, leading her onto the ice, “Right foot, left foot. There you go.”





	Runs in the Family

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I write this? I don't know. It came to me in a flash last night, so I wrote it down. This is probably not true(who am I kidding, it's definitely not true) but oh well!
> 
> Enjoy! Let me know what you thought in the comments!

When Arina was a little girl, her father would take her to the ice rink, holding a pair of new white skates.

 

“Here you go, Arisha,” He would tell her, his face stern, yet caring, as he held her hands, leading her onto the ice, “Right foot, left foot. There you go.”

 

When she got home, babbling about how much  _ fun _ the ice was, her mother was in waiting, hands on her hips, her lips curled in her normal stern expression. 

 

“Arina. Change.”

 

As a girl, Arina missed the way her father would frown, and both her parents would subtly glare at each other.

 

Instead, at four, she toddled off, changing into her normal ballet clothes for ballet practice with her mom.

 

And so the routine went, for two years. Ice skating, ballet. Skating, ballet. Skating, ballet.

 

Then, when she was seven, her parents divorced. 

 

She kept her dad's last name, lived with him, moved to St. Petersburg with him. That was where she officially started training.

 

Figure skating quickly became her life.

 

When Arina was thirteen, she won her first Junior competition. When she was fifteen, she won again. 

 

At seventeen, she got her first Senior gold medal, and, after that, she only got gold or silver medals. 

 

Her father had other students, of course. One of them, a ten year old boy with silver hair and blue eyes, was promising.

 

It was when she was seventeen that she met the love of her life.

 

His name was Mikhail Plisetsky. His hair was a pale, pale blonde - a stark contrast to her brown - and his eyes were such a bright blue, she felt as if she were drowning in them.

 

Mikhail was also a skater. He wasn't as good as Arina, not nearly as talented, but he made it to the Grand Prix Final, and she met him there.

 

Arina had never believed in love at first sight, but she knew that she was in love with Mikhail Plisetsky.

 

They dated for a year. He was teasing and kind, funny, caring. Of course, all of this was hidden behind a thick wall of indignance, but she had the wrecking ball, was able to get past the layers and reveal his true nature. 

 

A year.

 

Then, he proposed.

 

Her father was ludicrous, to say the least. After his own failed marriage, he didn't want his now eighteen year old daughter to marry off.

 

So Arina rebelled. She ran off, and they eloped.

 

“Arina Yakovna Feltsman,” The priest had said, “Do you take Mikhail Nikolaevich Plisetsky to be yours?”

 

“I do.”

 

And just like that, she was Arina Yakovna Plisetskaya, ready to take on the world. 

 

They married in May.

 

She realized she was with child in July.

 

Arina had spent nights sobbing, bawling her eyes out, because she couldn't compete pregnant, and what if she gained too much weight? 

 

This would ruin her entire career.

 

But she couldn't go back to her parents. Her parents, who were technically divorced, but sometimes would get back together, wearing their rings once again.

 

She wondered if they bonded over her marriage.

 

The fifth month of pregnancy changed her life.

 

Mikhail had gotten into a car crash.

 

“Fatal.” The doctors had told her, “Instant. He didn't suffer.” 

 

And Arina had cried and cried.

 

At that point, Mikhail’s father, Nikolai, took her in, smiling at her with pale blue eyes, treating her like her own. 

 

In February, her doctor told her she was eight months along. “April 17th.” The doctor had smiled, “That's when your little one will come.”

 

Of course, her child was a rebel, just like their mom, and they came not on April 17th, but on March 1st, just several days after her last appointment. 

 

The labor process was the most physical pain Arina had ever experienced, but the end product was worth it.

 

Getting to hold her son for the first time, listening to him wail like the fighter she knew he was… it was worth it.

 

“What's his name?” The doctor holding the birth certificate asked.

 

Arina smiled.

 

“Yuri.” She stroked the pale hair on his head, watched his pale blue eyes close with the soothing motion, “Yuri Mikhailovich Plisetsky.”

 

Her parents never knew.

 

They wouldn't know.

 

Arina taught little Yuri how to skate, with the help of her father in law, Nikolai. 

 

She never went back to the ice. She couldn't. Nikolai was old, and she refused to hire a babysitter.

 

That meant she spent hours working odd jobs, doing her best to support her child. 

 

Of course, ten years passed. The child her father had been training, Viktor Nikiforov, had started a winning streak, doing better than she ever had.

 

She knew her Yuri would beat him one-day.

 

That was why, when he had the option to attend her father's summer camp, she allowed it. She even went with him.

 

Whatever Yakov was expecting, it wasn't Arina.

 

“Arisha?”

 

She managed a smile, “Hey Papa.”

 

It was the first time she saw him cry.

 

“And that little one must be…”

 

“Yuri. That's my Yuri.”

 

“I'm a grandfather?” 

 

Arina sniffed, nodded.

 

“Mikhail passed away before he was born.”

 

“I heard.”

 

A pause.

 

“I… I didn't tell him who you were. I thought you'd be angry with me.”

 

Her father hugged her then, “You're my daughter. I'll never hate you.”

 

Despite his words, though, he never told Yuri who he was, and so neither did Arina.

 

And when she heard that her mother, Lilia, was teaching him ballet, she chuckled at the fond memories.

 

And when her Yuri won gold his senior debut?

 

She couldn't be more proud.

 

Yuri was her angel.

 

And that, Arina vowed, would never change. 


End file.
